


Raven's Songs

by Wizardchester91



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizardchester91/pseuds/Wizardchester91
Summary: Floki would do anything for Ragnar. He knew that from the moment he saw him. What he didn't know is how deep that love would go.
Relationships: Floki/Ragnar Lothbrok
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Raven's Songs

**Author's Note:**

> There is a devastating shortage of fics involving this pairing and I seek to remedy it. Also Ive coded Floki as being on the autism spectrum, as being autistic myself I can see little things that he does that just make sense to me.

Ragnar Lothbrok was beautiful.  
This was the first thought that entered the mind of the shy, akward, spindly twelve year old boy with legs too long and skinny for his body, still sporting a black eye and a swollen ear from failing to dodge enough of his father's drunken swings the night before.  
This thought was immediately followed by the fumbling realization he had just thought of another boy, about his age, perhaps a bit younger or older, in the same way a young man might think of a pretty maiden. The thought took him aback and he shifted uncomfortably next to the horse he has lead to the Lothbrok farm, with the tools his father had sent him to deliver. He fidgeted, avoiding eye contact, a nervous giggle escaping him as those piercing blue eyes settled on his gangly frame.  
"I could teach you to fight."  
Floki blinked, unsure if he had heard the boy correctly. Sometimes sentences mashed together wrong in his head and it frequently earned him beatings, or angry curses from a farm worker. Slowly he ran the words back through his head, and realised that, yes, Ragnar did in fact speak to him, and yes, his words meant what he thought they did.  
Quietly he uncoiled himself, cocking his head curiously. "I can fight." He answered petulantly.  
Again those blue eyes bored into him, and Floki shifted his gaze to a point just between his eyebrows, a technique he had learned with practice. Eye contact made him uncomfortable, like a trapped animal. Many things made the boy uncomfortable in fact. The texture of Certain fabrics, the creaking of saddle leather, the noise of the town, all the movement. He had learned to grit his teeth and ignore it, or else he was Silly Floki, Stupid Floki, Clumsy Floki. But it still left him exhausted and restless and irritable at the end of the day.  
He was pulled out of his own thoughts by Ragnar's laugh, and he blinked again. "What is so humorous?" He asked, frustrated. Had he said something wrong? Missed some sort of impossible to comprehend signal?  
Ragnar shook his head, clasping one of Floki's bony shoulders and making the poor boy dizzy with the urge to flinch away and also to lean into the touch. He swallowed thickly as the blue eyes twinkled mischievously.  
"Nothing." He smirked tauntingly. "Only that if you were a better fighter, you would not have so many bruises!"  
Floki curled his lip, eyes narrowed like a snake coiling defensively. "You are making fun of me." He realised flatly. He was used to it of course. But it didn't lessen the sting any.  
The laughter immediately faded from the other boys face, and he shook his head. "No. I do mean to teach you to fight if that is what you want."

For weeks, Floki snuck away from his father's house each night, sometimes bringing a rabbit or a brace of fish as a thank you gift. Once he brought a Fylgjur carved from driftwood, a tiny eagle with bright blue painted eyes. The smile his friend had given him at that gift had made Floki want to whoop and leap about, and he had only just managed to stifle it with an odd twirling of his hands he sometimes did. In trade, he learned first to fistfight and scrap, which was easy enough to do, and then to fight with wooden swords. His favorite, however, and the one which came easiest to him, was the Skeggøx. The light weapon fit in his hands, and like his carving tools, thoughtlessly flowed with his body, an extension of his arms. He practically danced around the training area, whirling and striking. His lean, sinewy body surprisingly fast, he quickly became a dangerous opponent; He frequently left Ragnar panting, eyes dancing up at him from the blade pressed against his throat. For Floki, it was both agonizing and exhilarating. Every touch left him doe eyed and breathless. Every word of encouragement or praise left him giving that cracked, nervous giggle. Ragnar was home to him. With the boy beside him he felt safe. So safe, in fact, that after nearly a year, when Floki's father had nearly beaten him bloody, it was to Ragnar he fled. It was on Ragnar's shoulder he trembled and gasped, trying hard not to scream. Trying harder not to cry. And it was Ragnar who became Floki's only friend, and the the only living soul who knew the truth about what went on at home. Ragnar's fury, Floki decided, was even more beautiful than his smile. It roared and snapped like a hearth flame, and turned his eyes dark and intense. No one ever bothered to look for the body. Floki continued to live in his father's house on the edge of the Fjord, fixing tools and making and selling little carved trinkets. And five years later, when Ragnar was a man preparing for his first raid, He would build the boats to take him.

**Author's Note:**

> Fylgjur- A sort of norse animal spirit/totem. They were said to represent your spirit while among the gods.
> 
> Skeggøx- Battle Axe or war Axe.


End file.
